


Imagine My Surprise

by Kristylee



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Blood Kink, Blow Jobs, Gore, Halloween, M/M, Masturbation, Rimming, Wendigo Hannibal Lecter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-28
Updated: 2018-10-28
Packaged: 2019-08-09 06:21:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16444481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kristylee/pseuds/Kristylee
Summary: This is a gory, blood kinky way to celebrate Halloween. :)





	Imagine My Surprise

The branches of the tree in the front yard, almost bare, swayed indelicately in the wind. Rattled the gutter, tiles of the roof. Will listened to the scrape of it over the slurp of his coffee, the whines of his dogs wanting breakfast. Soon rain would patter the windows like children's feet he would never hear on his hardwood. Will left the window and scooped the food out in bowls for his pack and made his own breakfast of dry rye toast and fried eggs. He poured himself a second cup just as the first drum roll of thunder crushed the clouds.

Halloween enveloped the neighborhood, cloaked houses in ghosts and sticky fake spiderwebs. Each home was adorned with its own personalized carved pumpkin, seizure lights, or some life sized monster or other. 

Will went to the grocery store in the rain, wipers fast on the windshield, in hope of buying candy for trick or treats, tiny goblins and vampires. The traffic lights blurred where they hung over the intersections, the radio mostly static like an old CB. Will adjusted his glasses, smeared on the left lens, turned right into the grocery parking lot.

And there it was. A thing. A something hazy in the rain. A lanky, black as night thing under a street lamp. Coal black eyes, antlers sharp and majestic sprawled from the bald smooth head. A worrisome creature that caught Will's breath as it lifted one spindly hand to its lips and shushed him from afar.

Will blinked, blinked and kept his eyes shut tight, clammed up and with shaking hands removed his glasses, wiped the lens and slid them back on, as if like in the movies, the thing would disappear with a flick of light or a closed eye. It remained. Tall, raven, terrifying. 

An alien creature that hindered Will from even removing his seat belt, tight across his chest like a strangling hug. The hallucination - that's all it could be, it couldn't be real or alive - returned its hand to its side, stroking the protruding ribs as it did so. Will's throat released a harsh breath, loud as a scream in the car, muffled by the rain dropping on the roof and windows. It vanished. It disappeared. It was there and then - nothing. It was not.

Will, for a second, thought he was having a stroke. He remained in the car long enough to seem strange, and finally opened the door and stood up, legs weak and trembling. He glanced around for anything else out of place, to see if any other shoppers noticed the creature. 

Nothing out of place. 

The fluorescents gave Will an instant migraine behind his eyes, throbbing like a stubbed toe. He pushed the cart, one wheel dragging and clicking in place. The music from overhead was a soft Elvis cover song, a female voice warbling and sad. He sighed, determined to complete this mundane, every day life task ahead of him. 

The produce sprayers were on, making the fruit and vegetables glisten, appetizing and fresh. Will placed a clamshell of blackberries in the cart, a bag of green apples. He moved on quickly to the candy aisle, before he forgot himself. 

Rows, shelves of brightly colored packaging, giant orange displays announced candy names and labels. Candy around any holiday is never properly portioned or small in any way. Will dropped a five pound bag of assorted chocolates into the cart, making the metal ring and reverberate. Another two pound bag of sour candy, and a single large chocolate bar with almonds embedded in the sweetness for himself.

“One musn’t forget themselves when buying teeth rotting goodies.”

Will looked up over his glasses to see who spoke, their accent heavy and completely foreign. A man, tall and lean, sandy blonde and cupid's bow lipped, and smartly dressed, reeking of expensive aftershave and cigar smoke, smiled at Will, crows feet crinkling his eyes the way you fork the edges of pie crust. 

An exotic looking man. European, by the accent. His eyes glitter like starlight. Will slowly placed his candy bar in the cart.

“I'm sorry?”

The stranger laughed lightly. “I was just commenting on your selection.”

“Oh,” Will said. He rubbed the back of his neck, ashamed somehow so quickly. Heart skittering like a false reading on a lie detector test. The possibility of a blush crept up his throat and ears. When a stranger speaks unexpectedly, Will Graham becomes a scarecrow, observing and frightening those around him.

This stranger was a persistent crow. 

“Do you get many children on Halloween?”

“Sure, I mean, I'm close to the library, and they usually run an event the night of trick or treating, so…”

“I see. I do not know what to expect - I moved just recently, and I'm unaware of children's whereabouts of the real estate market.”

A flirting, persistent crow.

“Right. Where did you move to?”

“I too am close to the library.”

Will nodded. “I think I saw you moving in a few mornings on my run.”

Both men nod, equally sizing each other up. Will, ever the optimist hoped this man was cruising him. A wishful thought that solidified with no wedding band present on the man's finger. 

“I'm - I suppose that makes us neighbors.”

If two streets over counted as neighbors.

“It seems that way,” the man smiled politely. He stuck out a large, veined, strong looking hand. “Hannibal.”

Will, brought up to notice it, sighed at Hannibal's deliberate, firm handshake. His train of thought derailed itself, skittering along images of that palm around his throat, pressed into his carotid, pressed to his cock through his underwear, pressed against his lips to keep in the sound of want he would make. He jerked his own hand back, ears burning.

“Uh. Will. Graham. It's nice to meet you.”

Hannibal’s eyes twinkled with mischief, humor. Will's fumbling awkwardness amused and delighted him. Hannibal picked up a foreign brand of chocolate, swirling letters on the blue wrapper. He held it up to his nose and inhaled deeply, as if he could taste the chocolate through his olfactory senses, eyes closed, and exhaled slowly, a hiss through his teeth.

Will nearly choked.

“I love the scent of chocolate. It's a seduction all its own,” Hannibal said. He ran a long thick finger over the seam of the package, light and delicate as if it were made of glass and not glossy paper, partially recycled.

Will, head jerking, fingers numb, pupils blown, did not know what to reply with. This man was the type parents warned about. A stranger, huskily voiced, tall and dominating, smooth as silk, that would lure you into a van or a dark alley, stood before Will, and Will would have gone if it weren't for the migraine inducing lights and shoppers and his self doubt bitter on his tongue.

“My apologies if this is immodest, but would you care to join me for a drink this evening at my house?”

That thought provoked something latent in Will. A fire, perhaps, once extinguished but ignited again by this man. Will stared at his shell of blackberries, smile riding his face, unable to find a reason to say no.

“Sure. I can come by tonight.”

Hannibal nodded, tapped his candy bar with a perfect blunt fingernail. “I look forward to it. Would eight suit you?”

“Yes, that. Yes,” Will shrugged. “I'll be there. I'll see you then.”

“Fantastic.”

Will was left in the candy aisle, quaking, in a cloud of cologne.

\---

Before his mother, fair skinned and elegant, died mottled and bruised with needle sticks for blood draws, she taught Will to dress well for a date. Make a good first impression. 

The impression Hannibal must have gotten in the grocery was that of a tired man in denim and cotton. Will owned fine clothes, but why deceive when all of his belongings were covered in dog hair? Why try when even at his lowest, alone, grocery shopping moment, this man found him attractive enough to invite over for a drink? Not dinner; not yet. 

Will didn't bother to shave - it would be obvious that he was trying too hard to make a new impression of himself, that of a more put together person. He stood at the bathroom sink, and allowed himself to see what Hannibal must have. A wave of curly hair. Stubble that itched, a scar from his police days in New Orleans on his cheek that resembled an old fashioned umbrella handle. Exhausted eyes. 

The total package.

There it was. In the mirror. A shadow not his own. The antlers. The charcoal black eyes, wet and haunting. Will turned slowly to look behind himself properly, heart beating hard and fast in his neck.

Nothing. Just the shower stall. With a coward's inch of bravery, Will opened the stall. Nothing. It was there and then it wasn't. 

Never prone to serious mental illness, nothing above minor seasonal depression, Will found this hallucination so disturbing, uninvited, he considered cancelling with Hannibal. He turned in his bathroom, unable to feel his own body as it moved. Will whistled for the dogs as he exited the bathroom. All of them crowded the hallway, tails wagging for a treat if they were so lucky. Will allowed their breath and bodies still the air so he himself could focus.

The night was illuminated with candles in carved pumpkins on porches, streetlights that flickered on and blurred in the rain, slowed to a drizzle. Will pulled his collar up to his ears, made way across the street and down the next. The sidewalk leaves crunched and mushed under the sole of his shoes. Each house shadowed and terrifying in the darkness.

Hannibal's house was a looming two story with a balcony on the second floor, lit by a lamp in the room it extended. The porch light was also on, in wait for Will, if he had to guess.

Will knocked and immediately was struck at how out of the ordinary this seemed for him. To simply meet a man and less than twelve hours later, meet that man for a drink. At his home. 

Will didn't dare to imagine what his late father would think.

Hannibal answered the door in a smart suit and a half smile. 

“Good evening, Will.”

“Hannibal -”

Will stopped short as Hannibal reached out, hands warm and folded down his jacket collar. Knuckles grazed his scar, his jaw. Will held his breath tightly in his chest. A new, desperate part of him wanted to lean into the touch, but it was gone just as quickly as it came.

“Please, come inside.”

A sparsely decorated living room invited Will in. A warm scent of cinnamon and spices coiled it's way out of the kitchen. Will could sense Hannibal behind him, knew it for sure when those remarkable hands landed on his shoulders to take his coat. He could feel a breath by his ear. It landed a shiver across his skin, electric and fresh, that pitted his stomach. He turned as his coat slid from his shoulders. 

“Please, make yourself comfortable,” Hannibal whispered. 

Will's body fidgeted on it's own on his way to the sofa. Hannibal moved to the silver cart loaded with alcohols dark and light in color.

“Pick your poison, Will.”

\---

The night grew nothing but darker, soft around the edges with his third two fingers of whiskey. Hannibal grew even more handsome, suave as the hours passed. The conversation, of Hannibal's move, his accent, Will's childhood, remained good and easy moving. 

“It’s nearly midnight,” Will offered. “I should… I should head home. The dogs, they'll…”

Hannibal set his drink down, licked his lips with a pink tongue that poked between his teeth. Will wanted to nip it. Taste the whiskey there, mingled with it on his own tongue. 

Both men stood. Hannibal helped Will back into his coat, allowed his hands to squeeze gently, a cradle that was both freeing and dominating. As if to say, turn here. Kiss me now.

Their eyes, a little unfocused, met and Will just forgot himself. He took a breath and leaned in quickly, brushed the edge of his nose against Hannibal's as an excuse to wait for a rejection, a polite but firm hand on his chest, maybe, to say no. Instead, with the side of his hand, Hannibal caressed Will's cheek, and faintly nodded, to say yes.

Will closed the space between them, a slow press of lips and tongue that forced him to sigh out into Hannibal's mouth, as if his soul left his body and entered another's. He pulled Hannibal ever closer, not accepting an inch between them. Raked his fingers through Hannibal's hair to the nape of his neck. Will could feel Hannibal snaking his hands around his waist to just beneath his belt, under the fabric of his pants. It made him blush and moan softly.

Hannibal kissed open mouthed with teeth down Will's neck to the collar of his shirt. He mumbled something in French that Will didn't quite catch.

“I'm getting hard,” Will marveled into Hannibal's ear. Hannibal massaged his back, nibbled his ear, licked his pulse point. Will felt dazed, never so turned on his adult life. 

“I want you, Will.”

Hannibal's voice was harsher than the edges of a broken bottle. He kissed Will on the lips once more as if he were hungry, starving, waiting to be fed.

Will felt under a spell. And there. There it was once more. For the third time in a day. The creature stood behind Hannibal waiting for Will to react.

“Hannibal...I have to go. I need to leave. Now. I need to go.”

Will stumbled his way from the house, delirious and angry and drunk. He saw Hannibal in the doorway when he turned back.

“I'm sorry. I'm sorry -”

Will walked home as fast as he possibly could. It rained harder on him, pounding the skin of his face and neck. He shivered, frantic, pushed the door open to see the dogs lying in wait for him. 

The creature, according to the internet, a million different black holes and tangents later, was a wendigo. A dangerous figure that eats sweet breads straight from the source. The photos showed a dark, long limbed monster with blood smeared across its sharp teeth, feral and hideous. Will sucked in a breath. The images depicting maulings and bloodletting both terrified and excited him.

Will, ever the adventurer both mentally and physically, scraping both mind and body with his fair share of mistakes, Googled “cannibalism.”

The results were tremendous. Cannibalism was not alone a body eating a body, but an array of sexual deviations and something called “blood play” as a fetish. How he arrived at gore fetishes from a wendigo hallucination was entirely beyond him, but he landed here, feet firmly planted, blood pumping from his kiss with Hannibal. 

Ever the adventurer.

Shamed a little, Will looked around the room to make sure no more than two dogs were with him. Any more, for some reason, seemed inappropriate, and slid his pants off at the desk, chilly air against his sensitive calves. He started with pictures.

It started with pictures of sexual cannibalism. To be bitten, spoken to of the myriad ways one could slice, dice and prepare you for dinner. Stills of pornography that involved a few obscure fetishes that Will didn't know he enjoyed until he saw them. He felt cursed and alive, looking at these photos, from a distance, allowing his cock to fill slowly with blood with each passing couple posed mid bite, knives at the ready. It progressed very quickly to videos.

One thumbnail in particular gave Will pause. The performer wasn’t, but looked similar to Hannibal; devastatingly high cheekbones, perfect hair, furry chest. His mouth watered and he cleared his throat. He clicked before he could really think about it.

The Hannibal-a-like had such broad shoulders. It opened there, behind the man, scanning his tapered back, down his ass and side angled to a knife glinting in his fist. And then to another man with a cock ring on, tied, stretched to the bed. He too was beautiful. Will bit his lip, didn't blink in case he missed something.

Will expected the scene to be rough, violent even, but “Hannibal” was tender. He pulled the man's cock slow and with a tight fist. He teased fleshy parts with the side of the blade, rubbing their bodies together, steadily, sweating, eventually bleeding, slow at first, a faint red between them. Will moaned from somewhere deep in his chest and finally took his cock out, wet and beading at the tip. The thought suddenly occurred to him to think of real life Hannibal as he stroked himself tight and slow like in the video.

Will bit his tongue hard enough to taste coppery blood spill between his teeth. He breathed out another moan and blood dribbled down his chin to his cock head, mingled with the precum. He worked his hand faster, harder, chased that tight white hot feeling in his gut, roiling and ecstatic. Just before it began to be too much, hurt too much, he came, hard and fast so that it hit the chest of his shirt, tiny gasps escaping him in the aftershock.

The night lay quiet with his breath. After he stripped his shirt and cleaned himself, Will went to sleep and wondered how he would make up his hasty departure to Hannibal.

\---

The morning rose, so unlike yesterday with its downpour, with an orange and gray sky splitting lines of light through the curtains. Will felt just sprig of shame at his conduct with Hannibal and thought of a few ways in which to make it up to the man as he cooked himself a pre-run breakfast of oatmeal with blackberries and a few sausage links. The dogs stood around him like a cloud of fur as he ate just in case he decided against the sausage after all. He would walk them later.

Will slid on his knit cap and began with a fast paced walk down the street. He didn't use headphones, instead letting the neighborhood coming alive be his soundtrack. 

He made way with a quick jog two streets over, nearly tumbled over the curb when he saw Hannibal reading from a tablet on his porch with a steaming mug. Their eyes locked across the street. 

How awkward.

Will waved the way a good neighbor would and jogged over to the bottom step of Hannibal's property.

“Good morning, Will.”

Hannibal was dressed for the day in soft looking black slacks and a red sweater that made Will blush because it reminded him of blood and the night before and the kiss.

“Hannibal.” Will stopped short. He rolled the words over his tongue before he said them. “I uh, I wanted to apologize for running out on you last night. I actually have no idea what I was thinking. I guess maybe I got … scared?”

It wasn't altogether a lie.

Almost with caution, Will took each step to the porch. Hannibal set aside his tablet for his coffee. Will could smell the fresh aroma of it as the wind blew. 

“Do you mind if I sit?”

Hannibal motioned for Will to take the chair beside him. 

“Would you like a cup of coffee or a tea?”

“Oh, no thank you. I'm in the middle of my run. I just...saw you and wanted to apologize for my actions. I'm a coward.”

“Nonsense, Will.” Hannibal paused to sip his coffee. “I respect that you became overwhelmed. It wasn't my intent to alarm you.”

“You...didn't. I just got in my own head.”

“And are you still there? Would you like to come out to play?” There was an extremely suggestive tone to Hannibal's voice, flirtatious even.

Will laughed in the direction of the street; eye contact took so much.

“Let's try again. Yes I would love to see you again, Hannibal.” 

“Good. I have clients late into the evening tonight, but if you're free tomorrow…?”

“Definitely. Uhm, let me give you my number.”

Hannibal opened contacts up in his tablet and took down Will's information. 

“You can call me after your clients...if you wanted.”

“I'd like that, Will.”

Will had the vague notion that Hannibal watched him as he ran down the street. He tried to not feel self conscious, but he did blush hot under his cap.

\--

When Will was just a boy, something terrible happened to him - or around him. To him? When he fell asleep one night, his body became rigid as a dark figure stood over his bed. It touched his eye with a long fingernail. Will could not move or make any sound. The thing, which he knows now as the hallucination following him, the wendigo, touched his eye and face but always disappeared into the shadows before anything could really happen, before any true damage could be done.

These night terrors, this sleep paralysis persisted throughout Will's life. Few partners understood it. His mother told him it was the Beyond reaching out to him. His father believed with certainty that Will made it up and simply screamed at night because he was a coward, fearful of the dark.

The wendigo left Will alone all day as he shuffled through the house, the shed where he refashioned old motors, and waited for Hannibal to call. He poured himself two fingers of whiskey and settled on the couch with a book. 

The dogs all began to slumber as the night grew dark. Will checked the time. Nearly nine. He hoped Hannibal would still ring him. Butterflies in his stomach swirled heavily in anticipation. Finally the phone buzzed in his pocket. An unknown but local number.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Will.”

He exhaled, a grin spreading across his face. “Hannibal, I almost gave up hope.”

“Surely you didn't. However, I'm glad you answered. I've been looking forward to this call.”

“Oh?” Will scratched Winston's ears. “Do tell.”

A huff of breath over the line that Will could feel. A moment of silence, and then finally an answer.

“I'm not the least bit embarrassed to say I thought of you, today, Will. Most of the day. The way you kissed me. I simply could have eaten you alive.”

Zero to sixty, then, Will thought. He bit his top lip and looked around the room, unsure of what could be an appropriate response.

“I would have let you.”

Will wondered if Hannibal could tell from that first moment they saw each other in the store that he was full of secrets and fetishes uncommon to most people. Wondered if Hannibal...could also be into that sort of thing. 

“Promises, promises,” Hannibal hissed. 

Will hoped he had found his match. He didn't know if he wanted to keep going down this path of conversation or change the subject or rock the heel of his hand into his crotch or not.

“Oh, but I would, Hannibal. You have...no idea what I want you to do to me. The things I would let you do to me.”

Unusually bold, Will cheered himself on, cheeks hot, every muscle in his body tense, about ready to snap.

Everything about Hannibal radiated sex. The energy he put off consumed Will like a fly or fossil encased in amber. 

A muffled grunt on Hannibal's end, a wet sigh. “I wish you were here just now,” Hannibal said. “I could show you all the ways I would consume you.”

Will believed Hannibal was in his head. Knew he got off on this. Knew that Will enjoyed being played with, tormented. 

“I could...I could come over,” Will whispered. “Unless you're tired from work...I could come see you.”

Will lay half hard in his sweatpants, dug his hand under his knee to keep from touching. He waited for Hannibal's answer.

“I am tired from my day, but I wouldn't say no to your face.”

“Then let me come over and kiss you again. It's all I've thought about today.”

“I'm not stopping you.”

\---

Will, hot blooded, anxious and terribly awake, rushed without running to Hannibal's house in the chill of the night. The wind picked up as he knocked on the door.

There was no pause between the door opening and the swift movement Hannibal offered as he gathered Will up into his arms and kissed him with a passion unknown to Will before this. Hannibal's lips were warm and wet and inviting; Will simply had to lean into it, chin raised.

There had been a handful of people romantically linked to Will, but none of them would have found his masturbation to knife play all that tantalizing or becoming. Yet, with Hannibal, silver flashed behind his eyes as they kissed in the threshold of the house, warm and cool air, their energy combined creating waves in Will that would come crashing down soon enough.

Hannibal slid his hands inside Will's jacket and massaged the pan of his ribs, the bowl of his hips in his sweatpants. Fingers sure of themselves, aware of their ministrations. He nuzzled into Will's neck, never ceasing his exploring fingers, up and around Will's neck and down his chest and over his hips again. Hannibal let his blunt fingernails dig into Will's flesh along his lower back and down so that the band of his sweatpants were clawed lower, just to the swell of his backside, covered with his jacket, cool in the night.

“You're a fucking tease, Hannibal,” Will grated out. He wanted so fiercely to bite his own tongue or Hannibal's lip to get a little blood in on this scene but he held back, groping Hannibal where he could, all along his body and neck.

“Well, my dear, we are still on the porch. I can't do much else out here. Though I wouldn't say no to ravishing you under the moonlight.” That last bit made Will shiver as it was whispered faintly in his ear.

“Then take me inside.”

No sooner is Will dragged in the house by those fingernails scraping along his back to his t-shirt in the front. Their teeth clicked together harshly, Will's lip caught between them so the blood flowed evenly against their mouths. Will can see it shining like lipstick on Hannibal's lip. 

“You're bleeding,” Hannibal ran his finger over the small cut on Will's bottom lip. They both moaned at that; Hannibal at the slick slide of his thumb, Will at the feel of it, throbbing just a little bit.

Will could feel gravity leave the room when Hannibal brought his thumb to his mouth and bit the blood away from his skin, and then licked it from his lips.

There was fire in Hannibal's eyes that let Will know he wasn’t alone. Whatever, anything he would ask for would be met. Whatever he wanted from this man, he was going to get it. Will wondered what he should ask for.

Beg for.

Anything.

As if their minds melded, Hannibal asked, “What can I give you, Will?” He brushed Will's curls from his eyes, intimate though it seemed in their heady kisses and gropes. 

“Anything.” Will licked his bleeding lip, his eyes darted around Hannibal's face, never landing, always searching. Taking in his skin tone, his pores, his bruised red lips. 

“I believe I promised...to eat you.”

Will nearly choked. “H-how do you plan on doing that?”

Hannibal pressed a kiss to Will's hand and escorted him to the stairs, up, and to a dark bedroom, the one with the balcony Will noticed before.

“Let me take your coat.”

Hannibal eased Will's coat from his shoulders, kissed from his ear to his shoulder, a low grumble in the back of his throat that Will could feel leave goosebumps on his skin.

“Arms up.” Hannibal dragged his fingers back down Will's body once the shirt was gone. Will felt cold, but was immediately warmed when he felt Hannibal's erection pressing into his back through his slacks. “So good, Will. You're as beautiful as I imagined.”

Will reached his hands up behind him to pull Hannibal close for a kiss over his shoulder. Vaguely he felt Hannibal push his sweatpants and boxers down in one go, his cock hard and free.

“On the bed, Will.”

Will crawled to the middle of the bed, a million throw pillows behind his head and back. Hannibal took his tie off and unbuttoned several top spaces of his shirt, cuffed his sleeves to mid forearm and followed Will. 

Hannibal hovered over Will, a dominate, overpowering being. The shadows for a moment gave Hannibal antlers… like the wendigo...and then they were gone or Will blinked. Or both.

Will focused again on Hannibal's mouth on him, wet and hot. He moaned as Hannibal placed himself down Will's body. His breath hovered over the pink flushed flesh of his cock head. 

At first contact, Hannibal's tongue on his cock, Will floundered at the sheets. He arched his back and exhaled slow and deliberate. With Hannibal completely upon him, to the back of his throat, Will let out tiny gasps, stopped and started and stopped again to put his palms on Hannibal's head.

Hannibal made a low rumble of sound in his chest that Will could feel all over his cock and it twitched in Hannibal's mouth. He bucked his hips and Hannibal smoothly retaliated with just a bit of teeth that made Will so much harder, shiver all over.

“Fuck, Hannibal.” Will gripped tightly to Hannibal's hair, it slid through his fingers as easily as silk. He petted the man, his shoulders. He felt as though, certainly, he was being eaten alive.

Hannibal pulled off Will's cock and stroked him with a tight fist, just on the edge of it hurting. Wiped precum with his thumb and smeared it down between his thighs to his hole, not breaching, but teasing. 

“You're beautiful, Will. I could suck your cock for a millenia.”

Will laughed, arched again. “I wouldn't stop you.”

Hannibal began again, tight white heat of his mouth around Will once, twice, again and then down further to lick and suck his balls and back up again, sloppy. Hannibal's face was wet from the nose down with spit and the spillage from Will's leaking cock. Hannibal was a fucking tease and Will whined for him to keep going. 

“Please - ahhhhhh fuck, Hannibal, please.” Will tugged on Hannibal's hair to keep him going, to keep his mouth on him. 

Hannibal lifted Will's thighs to present his hole, strong hands leaving bruise marks on the skin there. 

“What...Oh fuck,” Will squeezed his eyes shut when he felt Hannibal lick a long stripe over his hole and up his cock. He bit Will's ass cheek and licked over and over, tongue fucking in his hole, small sounds of pleasure breathed against his most sensitive area.

“Eat me alive, huh?” Will tried to communicate this but it only came out halfway and ended in a strong guttural sound from deep inside him as Hannibal licked and stroked him in a stunning rhythm that made Will see silver stars behind his eyelids.

Hannibal was not quiet with his French, nor with his more feral sounds. The wet sounds of him all but slurping Will's asshole clean and of his fist wound tight were a mere backdrop to the moans elicited from them both.

Will but the inside of his cheek so hard blood spilled over his tongue fast, that he almost choked on it. 

Will sounded as if his mouth was full of water when he said, “Bite me, Hannibal, fuck, please.”

Hannibal, as if he were prepared for this plea, but down hard on the inside of Will's thigh. The pain was sharp and intense and warm, burned him right to the bone.

“You're bleeding,” Hannibal mumbled into the teeth imprints. 

“That's okay...that's - it's fine. Do it again.”

Hannibal laved his tongue over his bite to taste the blood there and it made the muscles in Will's thigh jump.

“Where?” 

“...All over me. Wherever you want. Just...take me. Please.”

Hannibal continued to jack Will's cock, but bit his hip bone that protruded slightly, a bruise settling in quickly. The inside of his wrist, craters in the skin, sharp like a knife. Each bite sting went straight to Will's sick, he spurt a little more with each wound, but didn't come.

“You're enjoying this, Will.” Hannibal slowed his strokes to a horribly teasing pace, slid his thumb over the head. It befuddled Will that the man remained dressed to the fucking nines while doing this to him, as he sipped his blood, bit into his soft skin.

“I am. I like it.”

“I enjoy seeing you this way. Your eyes are mostly pupil.”

“Just keep touching me.”

“What would you do for me in return?” Hannibal relaxed his grip until it didn't even touch Will anymore and it made him whine for it back.

“Shit, anything.” He swallowed blood and his cheek pumped out more. The taste alone pulls have done him in right then.

Will's body felt electric, like he would burn or make light, but Hannibal had the switch to the power.

The antlers were back, a weird trick of shadow. Hannibal's eyes looked deep red in the light. 

The wendigo. 

Will couldn't stay calm. He started to sweat, the bites on his body thrummed as Hannibal touched and pressed them, began to stroke him again in earnest. Only...they weren't Hannibal's hands. They were eerie black with a long claw.

Will wanted to scream. He pinched his eyes shut and knew when he opened them, Hannibal would be there.

For a moment, he was.

And then he wasn't. The way the wendigo was in the parking lot and then...not.

The skin against his was suddenly very cold, but his body was still riding an orgasm that it wanted so badly. Will decided that it was Hannibal, just let the hallucination come and go and enjoy being bedded by this man.

Will closed his eyes and fell deeply into Hannibal's touch, firm and fast now. A sting like a knife sliced across his chest and it caught out his breath, made him sigh with want. He could feel the hot ooze of blood on his nipples and squirmed. A tongue danced across his chest where the piercing sensation remained, sore and throbbing.

Another bite to his hip, only this time much wider, blood spilling onto the sheets, deep and painful. It set off a pleasure sensor in Will's brain and he moaned gratefully at the suction around the open area of his hip. It felt so good. This, he told himself, is exactly what he wanted.

Will kept his eyes closed. He felt an ice cold body slide against his, told himself it was Hannibal. It had to be, it had to be. A kiss landed on his lips. Another to his forehead. Another to his cheek. Those lips, smooth as marble spread along his throat, just under his jaw. As the initial bite hit, Will came harder than the night before, and then he felt blood pouring from his neck, splashing across the bed.

When he opened his eyes, Hannibal smiled.


End file.
